


Meistras

by zacharybosch



Series: An Uninformed and Amateur Foray into Puppy-Play [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU where everything is FINE and NICE and nothing horrible is happening at all, Cocktail parties, Fluff, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Puppy Play, Sexting, again i'm not sure if this counts because i really know nothing at all about that kind of thing, aloe vera goop, appreciating them glorious empath thighs, but well, it's become a series of me not knowing sooooo, sending nudes 2 ur bae, sensual touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacharybosch/pseuds/zacharybosch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"My guests won’t miss me, Will, because I will be rejoining them in just a moment. However, it’s never a good idea to let pets roam free at a party, particularly disobedient pets who don’t come when they’re called, and you were two hours late. Now, you’ll not make a mess of the room while I leave you unattended for the evening, will you?"</i><br/>---<br/>A sequel to Šuniukas. Hannibal invites Will to a cocktail party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> more of the same smutty nonsense, really, with some added fluff for good measure. again, apologies to any puppy-play enthusiasts who i have offended with my woeful lack of knowledge about anything to do with that whole thing, i literally just saw one drawing of will wearing a collar and just fuckin went for it. and again, the title is just a word ('master') translated into lithuanian because i can't think. anyway, enjoy~~

Will had not been collared at Hannibal’s house yet. He’d been collared at the office, and at his own house in Wolf Trap, but they’d not yet broached the subject of moving their activities into Hannibal’s personal space.

They only fucked at Will’s house. There was something about the small space, the cheap little bed, the plain domesticity of the place that seemed to let Hannibal loose. At the office it was always a performance, Will told to stay bent over the desk or splayed out on the chaise longue, clothes removed or remaining just so and led around on the leash in calculated movements. Actions pre-ordained and everything in its place, an elaborate performance ticking over like clockwork. 

Will’s house didn’t lend itself to grand performance; it lent itself to guttural groaning, sheets pulling away from the corners of the mattress, sweat-slicked limbs sliding over and under and in between. It lent itself to the shedding of pretense, to raw carnality and feral pleasure, to headboards being rammed into walls. Hannibal bearing Will down into the mattress and Will bearing Hannibal in turn.

But all that was for Will’s house. Hannibal’s house didn’t even enter into it, and activities for the office were almost civilised by comparison; a tastefully erotic private display. Nothing untoward. Nothing tawdry.

So when Hannibal informed Will that he was hosting a cocktail party at his home, Will thought nothing of it. He wasn’t _particularly_ eager to spend an evening feeling uncomfortable around Hannibal’s high society friends, but Hannibal had assured him that he was not expecting Will to be the life and soul of the party, or indeed to do any kind of socialising whatsoever. 

“Then why would you invite me at all?”

They were in Hannibal’s office. Will had been on his hands and knees for an hour, and now Hannibal had him lying down on the chaise longue while he massaged the ache from his muscles.

“For the simple pleasure of your company, Will. I am under no illusion that you would choose to surround yourself with the kind of people invited to this event, or indeed that you would find them interesting at all. However, it’s my party, and I’m at liberty to invite whomever I wish. How’s the pressure?”

“A little harder, please. Ahhh… But, won’t I embarrass you infront of all your fancy friends? Sulking in the corner, not speaking to anyone. I don’t want to kill your vibe.”

Hannibal chuckled low in his throat and pressed a light kiss to Will’s head. “Don’t worry, Will. There’s no chance of you killing my vibe.”

***

Will arrived halfway through the party. He’d fished out and ironed his best shirt and trousers, admittedly not very well, but his one good jacket hid most of the creases that he’d missed. With his dark tie against the cream of his shirt, he looked a damn sight smarter than usual, although compared to the other guests he might as well have been wearing his oil-stained, boat-motor-mending clothes. He made his way across the entrance hall and into the main party space, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. Too many people.

Hannibal caught Will’s eye from across the room and gracefully extracted himself from the conversation he was in. He made a bee-line for Will and caught him firmly at the elbow, displeasure flashing in his eyes.

“You’re very late, Will. Quite rude not to call ahead.”

“Sorry... I didn’t think you’d be answering the phone.”

“A text message would have sufficed. No matter now. Come with me.”

Keeping his grip tight on Will’s elbow, Hannibal steered him back out into the entrance hall and up the stairs. Will hadn’t yet been upstairs in Hannibal’s house, but he could guess where they were going.

“Are we really…? Aren’t your guests going to miss you?”

“No.”

Hannibal pushed Will through the bedroom door and flicked on the light. Will had expected Hannibal’s bedroom to be an opulent feast of plush fabrics, blood reds and deep burgundies, drapery and gilt… it was, he realised, a style far too stereotypically lavish for Hannibal. The man adored beauty, of course, but more importantly he adored _elegance_ , and there was little elegance to be had in a gaudy velvet lovenest.

Instead, what Will saw in the room was a much cooler palette of blues and greys, offset with furniture in rich, dark wood. In any other house it would’ve been austere, but Hannibal’s blues were deep and inviting in the velvet of his bedspread, and his greys were warm and pleasant on the panelling of his walls.

And then he saw the large dog basket on the floor at the foot of the bed, his red leather collar carefully laid on the cushion. A water bowl and a dish of small biscuits had been placed off to one side.

“They won’t miss me, Will, because I will be rejoining them in just a moment. However, it’s never a good idea to let pets roam free at a party, particularly disobedient pets who don’t come when they’re called, and you were two hours late. Now, you’ll not make a mess of the room while I leave you unattended for the evening, will you?”

Will shook his head and dropped to his knees.

“Good boy. Go fetch your collar.”

Will immediately crawled on all fours over to the dog basket and picked the up the collar in his mouth, taking his time to slowly dip his head and grip the leather with his teeth, knowing that Hannibal would be enjoying the view. He returned with the collar and sat back on his knees, fists to the floor in front, and looked up, waiting.

The first touch of Hannibal’s fingers against his jaw was enough to make Will’s pulse quicken, and as his jaw was gripped more firmly and the collar pulled from between his teeth, he let out a low sigh of pleasure. Hannibal knelt down to remove Will’s tie and loosen the top few buttons of his shirt, then leaned in and kissed him long, full and slow as he buckled the collar around his neck. It had been Hannibal’s intention to pull away once the collar was in place, but the soft sounds Will was making in the back of his throat and the needy little way his hands had come up to paw at Hannibal’s jacket was intoxicating. Instead of pulling away, Hannibal allowed himself an extra moment to deepen the kiss and twine his fingers into the soft, tousled curls of Will’s hair. It occurred to him that Will didn’t deserve a kiss, that he’d been despicably late and hardly even deserved the bowl of biscuits he’d spent a good portion of the afternoon baking, but it also occurred to him that a kiss could be torture as well as reward.

Hannibal curled his fingers tighter and moved to place hot, wet kisses on Will’s neck in all the places he knew wrecked the man the most. He let Will utter one moan, then another. Then he pulled away, stood up straight, and admired the pleasant shade of pink that had saturated Will’s face. 

“Into your basket now, please. You are not permitted to be on the furniture.”

Will shook his head to try and dislodge the haze of lust, and did as he was told. He crawled slowly towards the basket, doing his best to wiggle his ass enticingly, to no effect. Once he was settled in the basket and pouting petulantly, Hannibal knelt again to ruffle Will’s hair.

“I have left some water for you here, and some biscuits should you grow hungry.” Hannibal reached beside the basket and slipped a hand under the bed, pulling out a wooden box. “There are some toys in here for you to play with, however considering how late you were, I think I shall remove them. I will come to check on you later. I expect you to behave.”

Hannibal got up and placed the wooden box in the middle of the bed, where Will was expressly forbidden to go, and abruptly left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://zacharybosch.tumblr.com)! send me prompts!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to leave a day or two between updates but fuck it, have the whole thing now o3o

Hannibal had been gone for half an hour before Will realised that he genuinely meant to leave him up here for the duration of the party. He’d sat patiently in the basket, waiting for Hannibal to come back in, to drag him by his collar to the bed, to bend him over it and take him hard and rough.

Maybe Hannibal had been planning on fucking Will into oblivion while his guests milled about downstairs and wondered at his absence, _maybe_ he had been planning on clipping on the leash and walking Will up and down the landing outside the bedroom, running a wonderfully dangerous risk of encountering a wandering guest, but then, Will had been very rude by turning up atrociously late. Any special treatment he might have been in for at the beginning of the evening was no longer an option. 

Will got up from the basket and paced about the room, inspecting this new, intimate part of Hannibal’s home. Everything in this room spoke of quiet, understated beauty and richness; in the low light of the bedside lamps, the walls themselves could almost be made of silk. Will stuck out an experimental hand, but found only smooth panelling at the end of his fingers. He wandered over to the bed, then hesitated: he wasn’t allowed on the furniture. That didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to rub up against the furniture, though, so he got back down on his knees and stroked his cheek against the soft blankets that draped over the side. He thought how these same blankets would feel under his hands, his knees, under his back. How they would feel as he bunched them up in his fists. How they would feel when wet.

A delicious wave of pleasure licked down Will’s spine, and he closed his eyes and rode the feeling. He decided to explore the rest of the room on his hands and knees.

He crawled over to the corner with the free-standing mirror next, keeping his eyes averted until he was in full view of himself. Of all the things Will had done while wearing his collar, looking at himself was one of the few he hadn’t. Possibly there was still some lingering shred of shame or embarrassment, worry that if he saw himself he would think he looked ridiculous. No matter that Hannibal waxed poetic about how sublime Will looked in the collar, that the sight alone was enough to drive him to madness.

Whatever the reason, the thought of seeing himself had always been too much. Hannibal had taken pictures on his phone, had even made sketches on a few occasions, and Will had refused to look at any of them.

Now, alone in Hannibal’s bedroom, Will opened his eyes and looked.

It wasn’t horrifying. It wasn’t ridiculous. He didn’t die of shame. He looked and he saw the faint lines of his muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes, saw the slip of red leather peeking out above his shirt collar, saw the mussed up curls and the quirk of his mouth. He crawled a few paces back and forth, to see how that looked too, and he was surprised at what he saw. Though he knew how Hannibal loved to see him crawl, he’d always felt a little ungainly while doing it, like his knees were sticking too far out or his movements were too jarring.

Watching himself now, however, Will saw that when he crawled, his hands placed themselves surely and delicately on the floor, the lines of his back moved in soft ripples and waves, and his hips swayed just a little, slowly and sensually.

He came back directly in front of the mirror and sat back on his knees, lifting his head to expose his neck and turning this way and that, inspecting the collar. He had to admit, it did look beautiful, the way it sat against his pale throat. He ran his hands over the collar and around his neck, caressing the soft skin and dragging his nails just a little, then pushed his fingers up into his hair to twist and tug. Feeling emboldened, Will came forward on his knees and pressed his body against the mirror, giving his reflection a kiss.

It was at that moment that Hannibal opened the door.

“I told you not to climb on the furniture.”

Will snapped his head round to see Hannibal standing in the doorway, gazing at him intently. He dropped his hands from the mirror and made to back away, but Hannibal stopped him with the same sharp hiss that Will used with his own dogs.

“Stay.”

Hannibal walked over and snared his hands into Will’s hair, forcing Will to lean back on his heels and scrabble his hands on the floor behind him for support. They stared at each other’s reflections, unwavering.

“Have you been looking at yourself?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I can see your dirty paw prints all over the mirror.”

Hannibal was speaking in that very particular, steady way he had that could mean only two things: he was highly displeased, or he was highly aroused. It wasn’t difficult for Will to figure out which it was.

“Perhaps I should leash you and walk you down to the party, since you seem to take such pleasure in making a display of yourself.” Will pulled against the hands still coiled tight in his hair. “Pleasure indeed… you’re half hard already, Will. Is that from staring at yourself? Seeing what a filthy animal you are? No need to answer. I can tell. Don’t watch me now. Watch yourself.”

Hannibal tightened his grip with one hand as he loosened the other and used it to pull open the buttons of Will’s shirt. He wasn’t gentle, and by the time he was done only a few buttons remained attached, clinging forlornly to the torn fabric hanging from Will’s shoulders. Hannibal bent and whispered in Will’s ear.

“Getting a good look at yourself?” 

The hand that tore his shirt made its way now to Will’s belt buckle, and made short work of that and his fly. Another rough yank, another expanse of skin exposed.

“How about now? Seen enough yet?”

Will was breathing hard by this point, only very slightly due to the strong hand that still had his hair locked in a vise grip. He’d never been forced to stare at himself like this before. He liked it. He made no attempt to mask the wanton lust in his eyes as he met Hannibal’s gaze in the mirror and ran a shaky hand down his bared torso.

And just like that Hannibal let go of Will’s hair completely and left the room.

***

Hannibal had wanted to stay up in the bedroom with Will, god he had wanted to, but his iron resolve could withstand pretty much anything _except_ Will Graham touching himself. He wasn’t about to give up this delicious little game prematurely just because he was too impatient to get his dick wet. He had better self-control than that… so long as there were several walls and one floor between himself and Will’s hand sliding on sweat-damp skin.

So it may have been a little rude of him to leave so suddenly, but it was necessary. Down here, in the midst of the party, Hannibal could focus on things that weren’t Will’s panting breaths, or the planes of his chest, or the curve of his back just above the perfect swell of his ass. 

Luckily for Hannibal, the party was winding down. He would only need to exercise restraint for another forty minutes or so, an hour tops. He made a slow circuit of the room, apologising to the guests for his continued absences and expertly diverting their well-meaning enquiries elsewhere. 

Thirty minutes later, there were still more people milling about than Hannibal would’ve liked. Usually, with gatherings such as these, Hannibal didn’t mind when a few guests stayed late - indeed, it often afforded him valuable opportunities to insinuate himself further into someone’s confidence and pick up interesting pieces of information. People tended to be a lot more loose of tongue when the hour was late and they were alone with a man as compelling as Hannibal. It had been his favourite way to stir the pot of his social circle, to watch the feathers fly, but truth be told he had found it all very much lacking since Will Graham had awkwardly barged his way into his life.

He could see the hopeful lingerers now, pointedly avoiding Hannibal’s gaze, trying to act like they already had invitations to stay. It was tiresome, and on any other night Hannibal would’ve spent time graciously extracting them from their seats and sending them on their way with thanks for their delightful company and promises of another gathering soon. As it stood on this night, Hannibal opted to simply ignore them until they left. He could be astoundingly cold when the mood took him, and it wouldn’t take them long to pick up on the unwelcome atmosphere.

So he made a show of turning up all the lights, abruptly stopping the music, and leaving the party space for the kitchen. Settled in the leather armchair that occupied the corner of the kitchen, it was pure habit that made him pull his phone from his pocket; since he and Will had become an item he had started to idly check it a lot more. He kept it on silent and turned off vibrations as a matter of course when he was entertaining guests, and he wasn’t actually expecting anything interesting to be there, but sure enough, there was the little message notification, and there was Will’s name.

Hannibal opened the messaging app and nearly dropped his phone.

Will had sent him a selfie. More specifically, he’d sent him a mirror selfie, kneeling just as Hannibal had left him except now his trousers were shoved down past his knees and the shirt was gone entirely and he was arching his back and sucking two fingers lasciviously into his mouth. His cock was rock hard and wet, jutting unashamedly from the juncture of his thighs. Hannibal was still trying to process this image when a second picture came through.

In this one, Will had moved back to the dog basket and was sprawled on his back, looking coyly up at the camera through his lashes and gently tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. He had one spit-slicked finger looped through the ring on his collar. 

Taking that long look at himself in the mirror had clearly done something to Will, and now he was making up for lost time. He who had, before now, nervously sent only one nude picture of himself, and that with his head firmly out of frame and the collar nowhere near, was now apparently a filthy exhibitionist. 

More notifications popped up. 

_is the party over yet? its lonely up here without you_

_youve been taking way too long, i bet you cant guess where these fingers have been, couldve been your fingers but apparently party is more itneresting_

_i want you to fuck me infront of this fancy mirror, want to see myself taking that cock so deep, i need it, are yiu gonna give it to me?_

Honestly, it was borderline bratty. It wouldn’t do at all.

_I will be giving you exactly what you deserve. No more, no less._

Hannibal looked up from his phone. The kitchen staff were finished, or close enough to finished that it made little difference. He ushered them out of the kitchen with a touch more urgency than was strictly necessary, and was relieved to see on his way to the front door that his lingering guests had found it in themselves to finally leave. Bidding the staff goodnight, Hannibal closed the door behind them, closed his eyes, and let out a long, slow breath. Everything he had been working to keep down over the course of the evening he let bubble up to the surface, and when he opened his eyes again they were near-black with promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://zacharybosch.tumblr.com)! send me prompts!
> 
> also [this](http://fuckyeahannibal.tumblr.com/post/83173360691/hannibals-bedroom) is what hannibal's bedroom looks like, for those interested


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter, prep yourselves for some tooth-rotting fluff. and porn, that too

Will was back in front of the mirror when Hannibal entered the bedroom, lying sprawled on his back with his head turned to the side so he could see the full length of his body. He trailed his hands lazily over himself, getting more thoroughly acquainted with the feel of his own skin and the shift of his muscles beneath. It was an intimate thing to witness, not done for show, and Hannibal felt a surge of pleasure sweep through him at seeing Will appreciating his own body like this. 

Will’s hands had stilled when he heard Hannibal close the door behind him.

“Don’t stop on my account, Will.”

Will took a steady breath and picked up the slow dragging motion again, letting his fingers dip and slide over ribs and hips. His small shifting movements made the ring and tag on his collar clink delicately together, and Hannibal honestly thought he could listen to nothing but that and Will’s soft sighing breaths for the rest of his life.

But the rest of his life could start tomorrow. Right now, he wanted to hear a different sound coming out of Will. He moved from the door and perched on the edge of the bed.

“Sit up. On your knees. Face the mirror.” 

Will positioned himself as instructed, meeting Hannibal’s reflected gaze. 

“Now touch yourself, as you were before.” 

Will’s hands started up again almost before the words had finished leaving Hannibal’s lips. He went for his hair first, running his slender fingers through tousled curls, smoothing it back off his forehead and letting it spring back in all kinds of haphazard ways. Then to his neck, fingertips slipping over and under supple leather, tugging and twisting just a little. Down, ghosting over his collarbones, and pausing to lay his palms flat over his pectorals and squeeze, just a little. 

Onwards, skimming the smooth muscles of his belly pulled taut with desire, and down to his thighs. Thick and strong, Will shuffled his legs open a little further and smoothed his palms flat over the hard muscle again and again. When his hands began to stray higher, to the dark thatch of hair, Hannibal moved in one fluid motion from his perch on the bed to sit behind Will on knees spread wide, nestled against his back. He put his own hands on Will’s thighs and breathed into his ear.

“Touch yourself.”

Will knew Hannibal didn’t mean it as before. “I’d rather touch you,” he said, and tried to shift himself back to fit his ass more snuggly in the space between Hannibal’s legs.

“You should’ve thought of that before you started sending all those crude things to me.” Hannibal still had his lips held close to Will’s ear, letting his low whispered words tickle the delicate hairs of his neck. “Really, I thought you would’ve known by now that you don’t get the things you want by trying to _goad_ me like some kind of petulant brat.” He gave Will’s thighs a firm squeeze and began to rub back and forth, slowly. “When you want something, you ask. Politely. And maybe I will oblige you. You’re still not touching yourself. Do it now.”

Will immediately brought a hand to circle the head of his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“You wanted to get--” Hannibal pressed in closer to Will’s back, let him briefly feel his arousal pressed up against his ass “-- _fucked_ , in front of this mirror. And I admit, I would like nothing more than to do just that. But you didn’t ask politely. And now you are going to use your hand to bring yourself to orgasm and I am going to watch, and touch, and make you regret your very poor choice of words.”

A desperate ‘please’ began to form on the tip of Will’s tongue but Hannibal cut him off before he could get it out. 

“No point begging now, Will, no matter how prettily you do it.” He gave Will’s inner thighs another firm squeeze. “You’ve stopped touching yourself again. Don’t stop unless I tell you to. And keep your eyes on the mirror.”

Will’s rhythm was inconsistent and stuttered, constantly being distracted by Hannibal ghosting his breath on the back of his neck, or trailing feather-light touches over his shoulders. He could barely keep his eyes on his reflection either, and more than once Hannibal had to loop a finger through the ring of the collar and give a short, sharp yank..

Soon enough Will could feel his body starting to tense, feel the heat coiling low in his gut. Hannibal had touched him seemingly everywhere and nowhere - there were several dark fingerprint bruises on the skin of his thighs and his scalp ached where his hair had been pulled, but for all that Hannibal had pointedly avoided even so much as a skimming touch over Will’s nipples, let alone anywhere more sensitive. Will was half mad with the need to come, yet continually staved it off in the hopes that Hannibal would finally relent and place those infuriating hands where he wanted them most.

Hannibal allowed Will to lean back more fully against him, and he rested his hands gently on Will’s hips, following their sinful rotation and grind as Will fucked up into his fist with ever-increasing need. The scene reflected back at them in the mirror was exquisite: Will, naked and flushed crimson, wet lips opening and closing around gasps and panting breaths, trying desperately hard to keep his eyes open; Hannibal, nuzzled into the crook of Will’s neck, dark eyes peering through sweat-damp curls, devious fingers curled possessively around sharp hipbones. 

It was too much. Will couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Please, Hannibal… I need-- _need_ to… _please_...”

Hannibal slid his hands from Will’s hips, down to the firm muscles of his ass. He kneaded at the flesh with none of his former restraint and Will shuddered and moaned in his grasp, fist pumping furiously and making the most deliciously obscene, wet noises. Hannibal spread Will wide and let one finger brush against his hole, and that was _it_ , Will’s back arched and his legs tensed and strained and he came with a low, throaty groan all over his hand and stomach.

Hannibal held him through it, covering Will’s sticky fist with his own and pressing damp kisses onto the soft skin behind his ear.

***

Sprawled out on Hannibal’s bed, Will let his eyes roam over the ceiling as he played idly with the nametag on his collar. His knees were red raw from spending so long kneeling (and writhing) on the hard wooden floor, and Hannibal was massaging some soothing aloe concoction into the tender skin.

“Hey, what was in that box?”

The toybox. Hannibal had quite forgotten about it. It seemed a silly idea in retrospect, and he was glad he’d decided to take it away when he first brought Will up here. 

“Nothing, really. Foolishness.” Sentimental foolishness. Inconsistency. A sure-fire way to take Will out of the moment, remind him that his master was just a sappy old man after all. “You… may look, if you wish.”

Will slid his knees out of Hannibal’s grasp and rolled over to the edge of the bed where the box had been unceremoniously shoved earlier. He flicked the little clasp and lifted the lid.

When Hannibal had mentioned “toys,” Will had immediately imagined all manner of insertable objects, and indeed, there was one bulbous glass plug that looked pleasingly filling. But the remaining contents of the box were something entirely different… A book on the finer aspects of boat-motor fixing. A rudimentary set of fly-tying tools, and assorted small feathers. An mp3 player, which, on closer investigation, had been loaded with albums of music that Hannibal would never be caught dead listening to. A folded over paper bag, containing the smartest-looking sandwich Will had ever seen.

“I didn’t want you to become bored up here. I realised belatedly that maybe you would prefer it if I chose to… maintain some consistency in the atmosphere and energy of our activities, instead of coddling you with the contents of that box.” 

Hannibal was _blushing_. Apparently making a man masturbate in front of a mirror was par for the course, but a display of carefully thought out care like this was just too much. Will could do little but drag his eyes slowly back and forth between the items in the box and Hannibal’s burning cheeks.

“I misjudged the situation and your desires, Will. I’m sorry. I’ll take that away--” Hannibal made a hasty grab for the box but Will yanked it out of his reach.

“The only thing you’ve misjudged, Hannibal, is my passion for boat motors. I like tinkering with them, but I don’t need to read ponderous essays on the subject.” Will set the box aside and tugged at Hannibal’s arm, guiding the older man to sit with thighs straddling his lap. He rubbed one hand in small, reassuring circles on the small of Hannibal’s back. “It was a very sweet idea and I love that you considered it at all. I like to feel taken care of by you. And I like that you got so flustered over it just now.”

“I was _not_ flustered, simply… unsure. Briefly.”

“Sure thing, ya big softie. Now finish massaging that goop into my knees, they still feel sore.”

“So impolite,” Hannibal muttered under his breath, but his eyes caught Will’s, and he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on [tumblr](http://zacharybosch.tumblr.com)! send me prompts!


End file.
